


with great power

by joshriku



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Friendships, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Team Bonding, bucky barnes is not a parental figure but he is ur local uncle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 05:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshriku/pseuds/joshriku
Summary: Bucky Barnes meets Peter Parker by chance after he breaks into his apartment.Peter is fully suited in seconds. He still looks hesitant to step out. “Mr—uh, Bucky?”“Yeah?”“Thank you so much. Really. I would’ve been here agonizing for hours while the healing factor did its thing, but you really sped it up! Not even sped it, just, absolutely killed the healing. Killed. I think that’s the wrong word, but, anyways, thank you a lot. If you need anything at all—any surveillance help, my suit has like, stealth mode, and I’m really good at these types of missions. Just saying. Okay?”Bucky smiles. “Sure thing, kid. I guess you know where to find me.”





	with great power

**Author's Note:**

> kevin feige was like lol spiderman wasnt meant to last forever and i was like NOT ON MY WATCH......SPIDERMAN IS FOREVER........ anyways mcu news who?
> 
> i have never written bucky and peter tgt. i have never written bucky . n theyre both my favorite characters. also its 2:34am if it has a manic feel to this story its defo bc of that. OK. SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES IN ADVANCE. IW ILLC ORRECT THEM WHEN I WAKE UP..

Bucky’s hand is on his knife before he even knows it. The knife flies through the room, landing perfectly on the wall — not to hurt anyone, but to let them know he _was _there. There is a yelp that follows this action, and then: “_P-please _don’t throw more knives! I’m Spider-man!”

Bucky lets out the breath he was holding and turns on the light on the living-room. “Spider-man?”

The kid’s eyes widen through his mask — how they were doing that, he has no idea. Technology is too advanced these days and no one really gives him a crash course on how these new costumes work. He barely knows how his own arm works. “Mr. Barnes?”

“Yep,” Bucky walks slowly to retrieve the knife from the wall, flipping it and saving it again. “How did you find this place?”

“I was—just, just doing my thing, you know, patrolling, and. A gang fight kind of ended badly, and I got a few more punches than I could take, like, no one _told _me super-strength didn’t mean I could take _several, many, too many_ people at once, but, uh, hey. This was the nearest spot I could get by swinging.”

It’s only then he takes in the shape of the kid: he’s clutching his sides like his rib hurts pretty badly, and it probably does. He gives him a look-over again; his breathing is harbored and he’s trying too hard to sound casual and chill, probably not to worry. That tone of voice is beyond familiar to Bucky — he’s heard Steve’s scrawny ass telling his symptoms and having a hard time talking only to tell him he was fine afterwards one too many times.

Three guesses: a fractured rib, possibly a bruise on his cheekbones or under his eye, given how his mask keeps shifting irregularly, like he’s trying really hard to not cry, and definitely his leg got a pretty bad hit.

“Stay there.”

“Um, okay? Mr. Barnes…?”

“Just Bucky,” he replies, going to get the first-aid kit.

Is it a first-aid kit if it’s got extra-special medicine from Wakanda? God, let’s not even start with Wakanda. Bucky had no idea how those people weren’t secretly gods and that the regular society weren’t bowing down to them, because, Jesus Christ — he’d never seen such healing systems ever. His first-aid kit is _literally _to cicatrize open wounds immediately, help bullet wounds, stabbings… you name it. Weird. Wild.

The kid is in the same position he left him, which is pretty funny. Bucky hasn’t had anyone who listens to his orders in a long while now — Sam is entertainingly stubborn. Bucky would be mad if Sam actually listened to him.

“Do you wanna change into something more comfortable while I patch you up or are you half-naked under this?”

“N-no, I have my pajamas, um, but — I don’t — I have super-healing! I’ll be fine! I just… need a quick nap on this room and when I wake up, boom! Good as new, you get me?”

Bucky frowns.

“I have a super-healing first-aid kit. None of us is losing in this situation.” Bucky sighs. “Look, I get it — you don’t want any help. But you’re like, fifteen—”

“—Just turned seventeen, sir.”

“—Oh my God, you’re still a child,” Bucky sighs again. Are teenagers always this difficult? “My point is: you’re a kid, you’re hurt, you broke into my place and I’m an adult. I should help you.”

Bucky is pretty good at his voice not showing anger. Maybe it’s because he’s not really angry, ever. He’s usually just in the mood for a good nap, drawing out words longer than they should, or not talking too loudly. In-doors voice, of course. Unless he’s with Sam — then he’ll be accidentally loud. Sam is a bit of a character, you see.

“Aw, okay,” the kid finally gives in, removing his mask and — he got a _good _beating. “Thank you. I’m sorry for worrying you, and, I know my face looks bad, but — you know, I got the job done.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. Why was this happening, again? Ah, yes. The kid came through the window and now Bucky is nursing him back to health, no idea why. He’s just a nice person like that. That’s sarcasm — Bucky isn’t a nice person. He just… cares about people, maybe.

Sam would say that’s being a nice person. Bucky isn’t quite there to accept it, yet.

He hums, tilting the kid’s face up and using the sprays with a bit of cotton. “What was your name, again?”

“Spider-man, sir.”

“No, I know that. Your real name.”

“Confidential.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that I know you, I know plenty about you, _and _it’s not fair that you’re confidential because you can read about me in museums and… Wikipedia, was it?”

“Yeah, Wikipedia.”

“Yeah.”

“My seventh-grade paper was about you, sir. I did a pretty good Power-Point presentation on you.”

Bucky is kind of shocked that this doesn’t faze him anymore. He’s found presentations online about him. Some were good, some were bad. “Good to know.”

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

“Bucky, sir.”

“That’s good enough,” Bucky shrugs. He watches how it immediately heals, the skin reconstructing itself, and the swollen skin starting to look normal again.

Peter blows out a breath. “Hey, my eye doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Told you it worked.” Bucky holds up the spray. “Do you want me to heal the rest of the wounds? Your rib seems pretty bad.”

“…Do you have stuff for ribs there?”

“Wakanda-exported. I’m pretty sure I could heal an alien if I wanted to.” Bucky squints at him. “You an alien?”

“Uh, no? I… I, um, got bit by a spider, and stuff. It was a pretty out of the ordinary spider. And then wham! I can just, stick to walls, and my life is turned upside down, and I’m like, well, I need a costume. So I made myself pajamas, and like, web-slingers, and started doing my thing. And here we are.”

“Interesting,” Bucky says, and it’s not meant to be sarcastic. It is pretty interesting. It’s just — lots of information at once. Kid speaks _fast_. “So can you get out of the spandex or…?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get to it.”

Peter undresses as best as he can with a fractured rib, and it’s pretty impressive. “I have a healing factor,” he reminds him.

“Ah.”

Peter finally gets down to pajama shorts and a white tank top. He rolls up his top to expose the fractured rib, and… there is really no point in worrying about the kid who’d keep fighting anyway, because he’s stubborn, and Bucky knows his kind. Yet, the way his stomach twists a little and his tongue is ready to spill warnings on how to be more careful tells him he’s already worrying over him.

There are many scars. Other bruises. Sickness settles in his stomach — he’s _seventeen_.

“You okay, Mr… Bucky?”

“Yeah, just patching you up,” he grabs the cream instead and starts applying it with gentleness. Peter hisses a bit, but immediately seems less stressed when the cream starts doing its thing. Honestly, Bucky is amazed by this kit. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, tons. I actually feel like a human again.”

“Good.” This isn’t his business, but… “Why patrolling? Thought kids needed like nine hours of sleep.”

“Not getting that much these days,” he says, more to himself by the way he’s muttering, but Bucky has nice hearing. He got that. “Crime never sleeps.”

“But people do sleep. You should.”

“And why are you awake, then?”

“Waiting for Sam,” Bucky answers, honestly. “Nightmares are pretty bad, too, so sleep is limited. But I’m an adult, you’re a kid.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yup,” he looks down on Peter’s leg. “Need me to use the kit on your leg?”

“Yes, please, it’s magical and I was an idiot for not agreeing to this earlier.”

That gets a chuckle out of Bucky.

It’s like the topic of nightmares flips a switch on Peter, because he remains quiet and not babbling three hundred words per second. Bucky side-eyes carefully, not trying to give away too much worry — again, Bucky knows his kind. He’ll probably feel guilty if he catches Bucky worrying about him.

Bucky doesn’t even know why he’s worrying too much, really. He’s met the kid three times or so. It’s his aura — he seems like he has no evil in him.

“We… are on a stealth mission, actually,” Bucky says, somehow filling the silence. He prefers quiet, but there is something unsettling about Peter being quiet, with his gaze far away. It’s a look meant for people as old as him in this business to wear, not _him_. “This isn’t my place. It’s rented.”

“I figured,” Peter talks back, thank God. “I mean, not that it was a mission, just—that you rented this. I don’t think you’re from Queens? Like, in general, like, I thought you stayed somewhere over with SHIELD or… something like that…”

“Nah, I’m from Brooklyn.” Bucky stares at him. “Thought you had a presentation based on me?”

“I—I knew that!” Peter shakes his head a lot. “I knew you were from Brooklyn! Promise! Uh, um, anyway, what’s the mission? Or is it like, confidential?”

“Just some HYDRA agents reported to be around here, we’re doing undercover missions, trying to catch them and get rid of the last of dirt of them there is.”

Peter tenses up. “HYDRA agents? Threatening people?”

“Not threatening,” Bucky should’ve assumed he would get tense. This was _his _city, after all. “Just, people to be on the lookout for.”

“More Nazis on the streets,” Peter sighs. “Just great. Exactly what we all needed.”

Bucky feels the sarcasm dripping, and he really, really agrees. “It’s okay. We got it under control. It should not interrupt your sleep hours at all.”

Peter’s lips are on a thin line. Bucky presses on, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Oh, but I’m worrying about it already. It’s okay! I’m used to being worried. I’m like a constant state of anxiety and fear. You know us! Teens! That’s our thing now! I don’t know what you guys’ thing used to be when you were my age, but, you know, all of us teens spend life like this!”

“When I was your age we were just trying to survive.” Bucky purses his lips. “Guess shit hasn’t changed.”

“That’s America for you.”

Bucky actually snorts at that. Peter seems to be fully recovered again, but something tells Bucky he doesn’t want to leave the place just yet. “Don’t you have school?”

“Ah, crap, I do,” Peter scrambles hurriedly for his suit. He stops for a moment standing up. “In case you were wondering, no, nothing weird is going on—I just put talc on my suit, okay?”

“I was literally not going to ask. Like. At all.”

“Well, you know, better clarify it!”

“Wasn’t necessary.”

Peter is fully suited in seconds. He still looks hesitant to step out. “Mr—uh, Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you so much. Really. I would’ve been here agonizing for hours while the healing factor did its thing, but you really sped it up! Not even sped it, just, absolutely killed the healing. Killed. I think that’s the wrong word, but, anyways, thank you a lot. If you need anything at all—any surveillance help, my suit has like, stealth mode, and I’m really good at these types of missions. Just saying. Okay?”

Bucky smiles. “Sure thing, kid. I guess you know where to find me.”

Peter looks at him and then at the window he came in through. Hesitantly, he shoots his web to a building, and swings off after waving at Bucky one more time.

Bucky watches him swing away. To his surprise, this is not the weirdest thing that has happened since he rented an apartment in Queens, but probably the nicest one so far.

Sam would be thrilled to hear this.

* * *

“Woah! Do you seriously have to do that every time I come in here? Jeez!”

Bucky picks up the knife from the usual wall spot. “Sorry, Peter. Better safe than sorry.” He fixes Peter with a look, and takes in the kid’s frantic eyes and posture. He seems… off. “Did you get attacked?”

“No.”

Peter sits down where Bucky usually patches him up, taking a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I just… needed to come somewhere, to talk to someone. I didn’t know where to go or who to call. I was only thinking about coming here.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes for the kid.

After Peter’s first time coming through the window, he started to come every night. Some nights, Bucky wasn’t there, so Sam had to welcome him and patch him up. It seemed to be an odd routine now: Peter stopping by every night, talking to Bucky and Sam, and then leaving before it was too late for school. Bucky wouldn’t really call himself friends with a seventeen-year-old, being a millennia old and all, but he’s got a liking for the kid at this point.

Sam, as much as he denied it, also took a strong liking for him. In fact, he was the first one to propose they save some dinner for Peter. Bucky hadn’t even _thought _about the fact Peter could be hungry, which proves how amazing it is that he’s not a father because he’d be terrible at it.

“What do you wanna say?”

“I…” Peter rubs his sides unconsciously. He removes the Spider-man mask, sighing. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Peter presses on. “Come on. What have you been up to?”

Bucky doesn’t try to get him to talk. Kid will talk if he wants to. Instead, he looks out the window and speaks: “Well, we got some leads. Sam and I are gonna look into it later.”

“Later?” Peter is already half-standing up. “I’ll join.”

“Join?” Bucky stops him, sits him down. “Why?”

“It’s my city,” Peter says, simply. “I need to protect it. It’s — it’s my responsibility.”

Those words didn’t really rub well on Bucky.

“Do you _want _to come?”

“Yeah, I told you—it’s my city, and—”

“I’m not asking if it’s your city or not,” Bucky says. “I’m asking if you _want_. If you, Peter Parker, want to come.”

Peter seems to consider this, words weighing on him. Again, Bucky is glad his tone of voice is always calm—always using in-doors voice.

“I…” Yet again, his lips go in a thin line, hands rubbing anxiously. “I need to come with you guys. Please. I… it’s, whatever I need, or want, it’s not important right now.”

Bucky feels himself age thirty years more from that single line. This poor fucking kid.

“Okay, sure,” he gives in anyway because again. He’s not really a parental figure. And again, this _is _Peter’s city — they could use the extra help from someone who knows the places better than them. “After this, you’ll go home, right?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Until I know everyone’s safe.”

He feels the urge to glare at him like he used to with Steve when he was being overly-righteous. But he’s a kid and Steve was an adult, so, he holds back. Why wasn’t Sam here? With his therapist ways he’d probably be able to say what Bucky was thinking: that Peter’s choices mattered and all of that.

During the mission, Sam doesn’t voice whether he agrees with Bucky for bringing Peter in or whether he doesn’t. He only nods at Spider-man and they all get their things started.

Bucky decides to analyze Peter as a side-job. It’s like he’s someone else when he puts on the suit, like all the past worries Peter had absolutely disappeared the second he became Spider-man. Whether he should be impressed or really fucking worried that a _kid_ could repress his feelings that much— that’s food for thought for another day.

There is one thing that worries Bucky besides the emotional turmoil.

It’s his mannerisms. Peter is on the edge.

Constantly.

Bucky knows there’s a difference between being on the edge as a normal Super-hero standard situation and when you’re on the edge because you’re terrified. Peter does an incredible job of making it look like it’s normal, but Bucky is _older_, wiser, and has been tortured to hell and back.

He _knows _what he sees. The retreat, the quick jumps when no one notices, the inability to ever relax because you just _know_—you _feel _that someone will pounce at you. You feel like you can never rest. It’s like Peter embodies everything Bucky feels and he doesn’t like it. Not on anyone, and least of all seventeen-year-old Spider-man.

On top of that, it’s like he’s constantly hurt. Bucky knows a thing or two about phantom pains. Peter seems on guard and his movements are extremely cautious, like there is a wound he is extremely afraid to open. And yet… which one would it be? Bucky’s seen his body, patched him up countless of times — all there is on his body is well-healed scars, wounds never meant to be opened again.

It must be different for Peter. It must feel different for him to bear all those scars. God damn his heart hurts.

Sam looks at him and then looks at Peter, silently asking: _What’s up, Barnes?_

Bucky makes a gesture that says: _I’ll explain later_.

Once they do find the HYDRA agents and take them down, do their routine talk (Bucky usually zones out and leaves Sam to do the Captain America-ning), Peter claps his hands together and sighs. “It’s quite late. I need to get up at 8.”

“Do you need a ride?” asks Sam. “My wings might be faster than your webs.”

Peter shakes his head. “Ah, no, thank you so much though, Cap…?”

“Nope.”

“…Falcon…?”

“Yup.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Falcon,” Peter seems to be smiling. Bucky is kind of amused that it only takes a month to read him so well. “But I can get by my own! Promise! And I’m pretty fast too. Honestly, I’m just really glad everything’s safe again—I’m glad people will go to sleep safely tonight.”

“Yeah, about that,” Bucky says, and Peter seems to be alarmed. “Oh, that sounded ominous. No, I meant to ask, _why _are you doing this?”

Peter’s mask-eyes squint. “Sorry?”

“You kept saying that you _needed_ to do this, even though Sam and I could’ve handled it perfectly,” Bucky notices Sam staring at him and _hopes _he’s already working some good, responsible adult thing to say if he needs to. “Not saying that we didn’t need you, but your wording was… worrying.”

It’s like his whole demeanor changes. “I just…”

They wait for him to collect himself.

“I want people to trust me. After everything that happened—the whole Beck thing—I’ve been… _terrified _out of my mind to ever let people down again. I can’t let this happen, you know? People _need _Spider-man—people need someone who always got their backs. And if I’m still Spider-man and I got all these powers—how could I ever let them down again? I can’t—I can’t convince everyone that I’m not a fraud, or that I’m not—I’m not a _murderer_, you know? But I can be there when people need me, like right now. To make sure people are safe. It’s my responsibility. It… it comes with this job, you know?”

Bucky would like to rip his hair off.

Who _talked _to this kid and made him think all of that?

Who’s making him responsible for an _entire _city like this? And _who _the hell could call Peter Parker a murderer? Bucky’s seen him burping the alphabet backwards. He could never hurt a soul.

Sam does his thing — the one where he squeezes Bucky’s arm to relax him and steps forward.

“Look, kid,” Sam begins, moving his hand to Peter’s shoulder. “That right there— that isn’t how you should tackle these things, Peter. It’s going to burn you out. It’s already burning you out, isn’t it?”

Peter is quiet for once. Bucky stares, feeling a little incapable of helping right now.

“Whoever told you this — whoever made you think that you need to please an entire city, that you must sacrifice yourself for everyone is _hella _stupid, okay? You’re a kid, Peter. You should be sleeping right now but you’re worried about _everyone_. And yes, it just shows how big and caring your heart is, but this isn’t the way to do it.”

Peter’s voice sounds small when he says, “I don’t know any other way.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Bucky finally finds something to say. “I… think we should all sleep, now. You’ll get home safely?”

“Yeah. I can take it from here.” Peter swallows. “Thank you guys for the talk. I’m really sorry for worrying you like this. I’ll… see you guys around.”

They watch him leave again, and Bucky exhales loudly.

“I have a migraine coming.”

“Make that a double migraine.”

“Haven’t had a migraine this bad since 1932,” Bucky rubs his temples. “Who is _Beck_? Did he shove all of that shit on Peter’s head? I’d like a few words with him. My arm has… a lot to say.”

“You didn’t hear when Beck exposed Peter’s identity?”

“He—” Bucky frowns. “I might’ve been in Wakanda during that.”

“Well, it’s a long story,” Sam whistles lowly. “Peter’s better suit to tell.”

Bucky gets little sleep that night, and for once, it’s not because of nightmares.

* * *

Peter breaks in a week after not breaking in Bucky’s apartment.

“Oh, I thought you guys would be gone by now,” Peter says, sounding quite surprised to see Bucky waiting for him. His posture screams _frantic_. Bucky is worried, no doubt. “No knife on the wall?”

Bucky stares at him. “Peter.”

“I’ve been really busy with stuff, school projects, building legos…”

“Peter.”

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” _Now _he sounds frantic. “Can you—could you just, like, tell me something only _you _know. Like. Something no one else could know but you. Please.”

Bucky blinks.

“Steve has _awful _smelling feet,” Bucky begins, because with the way the media works so hard to respect Steve Rogers’ legacy, Bucky would like to apply his best friend privilege and break his image in a nice way. “When I moved in with him we took turns in doing laundry, and every time I picked his socks, it was awful. One would think his feet died in his socks or something.”

“That’s so gross,” Peter shakes his head. “That’s so gross. This is definitely real.”

“You okay, Peter?” Bucky knows he’s not, but. Not like he’s going to outright accuse him. Peter takes himself out of the suit, leaving him with only the pajamas, and sits down. “I feel like you have some explaining to do.”

So Peter talks.

And talks, and talks, and suddenly he starts crying, and Bucky has no choice but to hold him.

He’s not sure how much comfort he can bring — he’s not exactly warm, his metal arm is _awfully _not-comforting, but Peter doesn’t seem to mind. If he doesn’t, neither should Bucky.

“I’m so sorry,” is all Bucky is able to say. “You don’t deserve that.”

Peter sniffs loudly, trying to pull away now. “I’m sorry. I’m making a mess.”

“No, it’s okay,” he hurries to assure that this is _fine_.

“I thought I had this under control,” Peter starts again. “I thought, hey, it’s been enough time, things are going smoothly — I’m over it. I’m over it. But I’m _not_. I, I’m not sure what triggered all of this. I just think—I started hanging out with you and Falcon, and it just—my _dumb _brain made it feel all safe, and it felt so good, maybe I was being tricked again? Into trusting good adults who care about me? And, man. Maybe it wasn’t even tricking—maybe it was all an illusion still, and it—maybe none of it was real. You know?”

Bucky does.

“Didn’t know when was a good time to come in, but I figure now is better than ever,” Sam says, walking in with a glass of water. Peter seems to want to wash away his tears, to pretend he wasn’t crying, but it’s effortless. Sam’s probably been listening since the very beginning. “Come on, drink up.”

Peter drinks, and keeps breathing in and out, like he’s talked himself out of panic attacks and sobbing sessions countless of times. His heart squeezes. That’s not good.

“You know, you were right about what triggered it,” Sam is _really _good at talking. He’s talked Bucky out of nonsense with harsh words, with nice words, and with plain words. He trusts him to lead this conversation better than himself. “Your brain detected a pattern—white, beardy guy trusting in you and being nice to you? It must’ve set something off inside that head of yours.”

“I… I guess so…” Peter stops. “But. I don’t… I don’t want Bucky to be a trigger?”

“Re-association with things works pretty well, if you ask me,” he continues. “You gotta know two things: one, Bucky Barnes ain’t a parental figure.”

“Damn right I’m not,” Bucky raises his fist. He probably shouldn’t. The deadpan doesn’t help, either.

“He’s like, if anything, he’s like your weird uncle. Your weird rocker uncle who has weird interests in specific things, like, gardening—”

“Hey.”

“—and like, he’s always asking you for two dollars because he needs to buy candy, even though he doesn’t _want _to say he’s been buying candy.”

“_Hey_.”

Peter laughs a little, and it relieves Bucky, even if it is at the expense of Sam saying awful, awful things.

“Two, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but this world doesn’t revolve around you. You’re young. You’re still in school, with a whole social life in it. And guess what? The world keeps spinning. Nothing ever _stops_, Peter, and that’s part of our job. There are people with superpowers _everywhere_. People working to keep things safe. People always watching over cities. It’s not _your _responsibility to keep the world safe.”

“But—”

“It’s _our _responsibility. It’s not all on your shoulders.” Sam squeezes his shoulder to prove his point, somehow. “Queens might be your area, but it never… it’s never a _need _for you to keep it safe by yourself. There _are _cops, and there are eyes from superheroes _everywhere_ — I promise you, if one night you decide you want to sleep at nine, Queens won’t fall and disappear.”

“Think of it like this,” Bucky isn’t good with words. He’s not as good as Sam or as Steve, but maybe this example will actually help. “Steve sacrificed himself to save everyone, back in the forties. He felt like it was _his _need, _his job_. And guess what? Shit still went down even after everything he did. And look at him now—old, and decided to go do the things _he wanted _to do, not that he _needed_. And look at us. We’re still alive, nothing awful happened because Steve followed his heart. Nothing will happen to _you _or the _world _if you decide to just… be a kid.”

Peter has been listening intently. He says, “I tried to do what I wanted once, and it led me to the whole thing with Beck. I’m… I’m scared.”

“Re-associating,” Sam answers. “It’s good. Will help you immensely. Just… slow steps, small steps, okay? What’s something you’ve wanted to do?”

“I…” Peter licks his lips. “I’ve been meaning to take out MJ to see the new Toy Story movie.”

“MJ?” Bucky asks.

“My girlfriend…?”

“You have a _girlfriend_?” Sam probably sounds more shocked than he should. “Man! You’re already living the life, Spidey. Whenever you feel ready, instead of going patrolling, take her out for a movie date. Nothing bad will happen. We swear it.”

“Scout’s honor,” Bucky says. “Never been a scout, but, honor.”

Peter laughs again. Bucky is beyond relieved to hear it.

“I… I can try.” Peter smiles. “Thank you guys. Really. I—I appreciate this a lot. I… I needed to hear that. I’m not… I’m not saying I’ll be okay in a day…”

“And we’re not expecting you to,” Sam interrupts. “Recovery is a process.”

Peter seems almost relieved to hear that. Maybe he was thinking he couldn’t let Sam and Bucky down. “But… maybe, I think, this is a step in the right direction.”

“Proud of you, kid.”

Sam gestures at Bucky. “Did you hear that? Literally sounded like an uncle.”

Peter is back to laughing.

“Just, one more question,” Peter stops, hesitating. “I… the… how do I stop doubting reality? Like… is there any trick to stop believing everything is _fake_?”

“Questions,” Bucky answers. “I’ve been there. Many times. Ask the dumbest questions to anything you think isn’t real. If it’s an illusion, it’ll break. If it doesn’t — you’re real and so are your surroundings.”

“Sounds easy enough…” Peter takes a deep breath. “Thank you, again. I. I don’t wanna leave abruptly, but like, I told May I’d be home not past twelve, and it’s… almost past twelve…”

“Go,” Sam smiles. “Keep in touch. We’ll be leaving Queens soon, but you can always come to visit us whenever.”

Bucky nods. “You’re not bad company, Peter. I like you.”

Peter smiles back. “I like you guys too. Thank you. I’ll update you on things! I’ll leave my number so we can communicate!”

And as usual, they watch him swing away.

“Migraine fixed,” Bucky announces once Peter disappears out of sight. “I want to watch Toy Story.”

“Have you seen any of the first three movies?”

“…No.”

“Well, looks like we have our evening date set out, then.”

* * *

**Peter (sent 11:30pm.)**

TOY STORY WAS AWESOME AND GUESS WHAT

the world didn’t explode because i had fun!!!

(Attachment: 1 pic)

Bucky stares at Peter’s smiling face with a pretty girl next to him.

He’s beyond relieved.

**Author's Note:**

> peter in this fic: and ykno.. with great power comes gre-  
bucky: dont u dare finish that sentence dont do it
> 
> thank u so much for reading!!!!!! <3 i hope it wasnt HORRIFYINGLY OOC GOD
> 
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